


Columba livia

by dehautdesert



Series: The Third Aspect [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Daemon Touching, Daemons, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Plot Twists, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, Reconciliation, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dehautdesert/pseuds/dehautdesert
Summary: It is known that to every Elf and Man there are three aspects: the body, the soul... and the daemon.In which Fingon and Penelope have rescued Maedhros and Calliope from Thangorodrim.





	Columba livia

**Author's Note:**

> Not absolutely necessary to read the other parts of this series to understand this, especially if you're familiar with daemon-verse fics, but it helps with head-canon specific to this verse, and some character development.
> 
> Skip to the end for a list of daemons appearing in this part - their forms might not be made entirely explicit in the text. For this verse I decided to have some fun and give the daemons names of mythological characters from our world, some random, some very on-the-nose in terms of symbolism. The title of each part is the binomial species name of one of the daemons featured in the chapter - in this case, Fingon's.

 

*~*~* 

 

"… _that when he saw Maedhros in his wretched state, and saw his lips move but could not hear the words – for the song he'd sung to reveal his location had worn down his parched throat – Fingon sent Penelope his daemon up the length of the cliff to receive Maedhros' message. This she did, though removed from Fingon's cloak her form was vulnerable, and she flew to Maedhros' side but perched upon a rock and not his shoulder as she might have done in the days of their youth._

 

_And when Maedhros begged Penelope tell her elf to slay him with a swift arrow, their heart was broken, and then did she perch upon his shoulder, as she had done in the days of her youth, and rested her head against his in comfort_."

 

 

*~*~* 

 

 

The sun was setting, and as she sank her colour and the blue-white sky around her became more orange, until they seemed to Findekano to be alike to Calliope's bold, sleek fur.

 

Or at least, that is, to how it used to look.

 

"This ought to be enough," Penelope told him, peering over his shoulder as he dipped his flask into the stream a third time. "We must keep moving; the sooner we get back to camp – "

 

"We need to keep that wound clean," Findekano argued.

 

" – which would be better done at camp, where learned healers are present!" Penelope insisted. "You know I'm right."

 

For the last few minutes – hours, days, Findekano didn't remember anymore – he had been moving constantly, always set upon a task that blended into the next seamlessly. Now though he suddenly stopped, and wondered if he'd be able to move again now he was still.

 

"We can give them another moment," he said.

 

His hands were in the water, but the blood had trickled much further along his arms, he could feel it.

 

"Findekano, we _must hurry_ ," Penelope said again. "As much as anything else we don't know this area, there might be more of those _things_ ," she veritably spat the word out. "… those _yrch_ , dwelling in these parts."

 

Findekano took a deep breath. After a few long moments he realised that even if there was a better counter-argument than simply to repeat what he had before, he had not the will to say anything.

 

It was, of course, imperative that Maitimo and Calliope be brought back to their camp as soon as possible, and every moment of delay likely only made things worse. But the logistics of transporting them both was a problem, and the only solution was a cruel one. And Maitimo, he guessed, had had quite enough of cruelty. Not to mention he himself had hoped the days of ambiguous actions on the part of his people were left behind with the un-melting snow and treacherous shelves of ice.

 

But he stood up without answering in the end and hastened back to the clearing Thorondor had dropped them by. He was waiting patiently.

 

"My Lord," Findekano spoke to him. "How fast can we make it to the shores by which my father's camp lies if we depart now?"

 

Only a second later he realised he may have assumed much in thinking Thorondor was going to take them that far – he couldn't have borne it to think otherwise though, because without him getting Maitimo anywhere was going to be impossible.

 

However, Thorondor had no intention of leaving Findekano and Penelope to fend for their cousins alone.

 

"I was born long before the rise of Anar," he reminded him, "and need not her light to fly by. We might reach the lake before Isil crests its highest point if we leave soon."

 

When thought about in terms of the distance travelled versus the time spent travelling, it was a ludicrously speedy journey. Had they all been riding on the backs of giant eagles they might have crossed the Helcaraxe in less than a week.

 

But when he considered what agony even those few hours might put Maitimo and Calliope through…

 

Penelope flew to his shoulder. _Be not faint of heart now, Findekano_ , she told him. _You know Maitimo. They will be well again._

 

_But to force them apart so soon…_

 

He turned his eyes away from the great bird, to his left, and Maitimo and Calliope.

 

They lay as though asleep, though Findekano knew they were not, and not like he had ever seen them even in the earliest days he'd shared with them, but Maitimo was like a child much younger than that, who wrapped his arms around his daemon as he would a doll, and she around him. But for Findekano's cloak his cousin was naked, and he had already seen the hatch-work of scars, front and back, that the long dark mantle covered now.

 

Their hair, their fiery orange and red, was dulled – yellowed in Calliope's case and almost grey on Maitimo, and both were so dreadfully wasted that it seemed to make a mockery of Maitimo's very name – he stared out past Calliope's shoulder at the line of trees beyond with a strange expression. Resignation, determination, shame and suffering it spoke of to Findekano, all at once, and to see that on the bold and reassured cousin of his youth twisted Findekano's heart inside his chest.

 

There was also the matter of the missing hand, oozing red, and the missing paw from which gold dust was smoking out like sand in the wind. Findekano didn't look there long.

 

But there was yet something else in Maitimo's red-rimmed grey eyes that actually frightened Findekano, a kind of lost look – and though he could not read his cousin's mind by any measure, he had this feeling, this idea when he saw that look, that Maitimo's could no longer sense Calliope the way he once did, even as she was right beside him, holding him like he was her possession.

 

_They've been reunited but a few hours at most,_ Penelope reminded him. _Give them a little chance at least, partner._

 

Then he felt a sudden unease from his own daemon, and tore his eyes away from Maitimo to look at her in askance.

 

_It's more than some back at the camp might give him,_ she explained.

 

_You mean Turukano_ , Findekano realised. It wasn't that this was news to him, only in the past day or so he had forgotten it. _Do you think we should take them to Makalaure instead?_

 

_I don't think we need go that far,_ thought Penelope. _Not that the others wouldn't want their brother back –_

 

They certainly would have wanted theirs, they both thought briefly. It was no place to think anymore than that of it.

 

_… but some of them might not react well to_ us _being the ones to return him._

 

Findekano nodded.

 

"I'll give him some more water," he said out loud, "and then we'll go."

 

Penelope considered this, and then bobbed her head in acceptance.

 

Wasting no time, Findekano approached his cousin and knelt at his side, reaching out to his shoulder tentatively.

 

"Maitimo?"

 

His touch was light, but the other elf started, and Calliope's eyes that had been shut suddenly snapped open – and in _her_ glare there was nothing lost or resigned. Findekano was taken aback, flinched even, but he held Calliope's gaze with determination of his own. She was known to him, after all. In Aman they had shared touch before, when he and Maitimo were younger, and younger now then it might have seemed if things had turned out differently, he thought. That was unusual even for first cousins, especially when one considered how at odds their fathers were.

 

Findekano took a deep breath. "Maitimo, you must drink; we are going to take to the air again, and then Lord Thorondor will take us to my father's camp."

 

Maitimo was silent long enough that Findekano feared he was ignored or else not heard at all, but after a prolonged silence the other whispered,

 

"… your… father…?"

 

"Yes, we have all come over together – my father, my siblings," he tried not to let any difference be heard in his voice then, " – Uncle Arafinwe's children, and many others. Aunt Irime came too, even, so we must get you back in form soon – or Jonah will laugh at you – "

 

"… but we burned the ships," Maitimo said, taking no notice at Findekano's attempt at a jest. He still did not look at Findekano, only over at the treeline, while Calliope by contrast would not take her eyes off him. "… we burned the ships. I… I did not _imagine_ that…"

 

Findekano had not forgotten either the sight of the orange glow in the distance, lighting up the darkness that had still been unfamiliar then – the first sign of a greater Light since the trees had withered. The light of Pandora, and the promise that he and his had been left to the darkness.

 

He sighed. Maitimo had perhaps not taken it in when he'd explained back at the cliffs.

 

"We came over the ice, Maitimo," he said gently. Not that it had been a gentle road, but he hadn't had it in him to be ungentle in this when he was already dreading what he would have to ask next. "Come on, cousin. Take some water – you need it."

 

Maitimo had not fully grasped what he'd been told this time either, Findekano thought, but then, it was painfully obvious that he had not eaten in many days or longer, and too well did Findekano know now how a lack of sustenance could affect the memory of an elf. Before her loss in the penultimate winter of their march, Elenwe had started stitching clothes for children who had died seasons ago. He remembered now the sad smile on the face of Angelde, that boy Ingaro's mother, when she accepted a new cloak for a son who no longer needed it.

 

That had been the last thing made by the hands of his brother's wife.

 

_But others lived through even that deprivation and recovered_ , Penelope reminded him. _So too will Maitimo. See? Even now he drinks._

 

The flask he had tipped up against Maitimo's lips was touched, and Maitimo took a few drops, and then a few drops more, then suddenly lurched forward as though for a gulp of it but Findekano pulled it away.

 

"Easy, Russo," he said. "Your body will reject it if it is taken too fast."

 

Exertion, even as little as it had taken to mumble a few words and drink, had Maitimo gasping; he complied and took the water drop by drop. In his pity Findekano reached up to his hair and made to gently stroke it, except that as soon as he touched it but lightly Maitimo started, and shook him off.

 

Findekano winced. The hair he'd touched had been thin and coarse with blood. Whole locks had been ripped out of Maitimo's scalp. Why? What possible reason had their enemy to do such a thing?

 

_A question for another time_ , said Penelope. _For we must continue on._

 

She was right. Findekano took a deep breath.

 

"Dear cousin, we must move on now – the wound is wrapped," _the wound I gave you, though you begged for death_ , "and we have fresh water. I know it will be hard, but do not despair. We will be with you, Penelope and I, and you have already survived so much… We will arrive before Isil begins its descent, Thorondor says."

 

Maitimo stared out at the trees again. "… Isil… ?" he repeated blearily.

 

Of course, he could not have known.

 

"The great silver orb," Findekano told him. "… have you not seen it?"

 

Maitimo said nothing. The skies around Thangorodrim had been dull with clouds of smoke and fog when Findekano had reached it; grey by day and black as pitch by night but for the ominous glimpses of roaring red fires from the caves. He had not guessed before that it had been so always, and Maitimo might never have seen…

 

"Russo," he said, and touched his shoulder, "I will show – "

 

He had no warning. Even though Maitimo flinched he had not expected it at all when Calliope roared like he had branded her and swiped out at him with her paw.

 

Now, this was the paw that was no longer there, for elf and daemon had been subjected to the same torment, though on opposite sides of their bodies, and Findekano had had no choice but to amputate both hand and paw. But the nature of daemons was not as that of elves.

 

Three ice-cold flashes of pain were sent down Findekano's arm where he touched Maitimo – cloth ripped and red lines opened up upon his forearm, and they bled, and in all aspects there was little difference to if he had been truly clawed by a tiger.

 

Except for that Calliope was Maitimo's daemon, and a part of him, and a touch by her claws through his flesh was still a touch. Findekano saw his cousin anew in that moment. Saw what was in his heart and mind.

 

Saw fire – and pain.

 

And darkness.

 

Penelope screamed and flew away from his shoulder. Findekano lurched back from the other pair also, clutching his arm and trying to shut his eyes from the terrible darkness he saw inside Calliope's spirit. He heard other cries in that darkness, voices that were not his or Maitimo's or either of their daemons, voices begging, pleading, with words he couldn't make out. Voices of people unseen, and unable to assuage the dreadful loneliness, that had seeped into him in that second like the cold had seeped in on the Helcaraxe.

 

In this contact, even though it had lasted less than half a second, Findekano scraped over the ground a few feet away and curled up tightly. In the back of his mind he thought he heard an echo –

 

_Finno? What happened? Calliope, what did you do?_

 

_We are together. We are together and no one will part us._

 

_Calliope, what did you do?_

 

_…_

 

_Finno?_

 

Deep breaths, Findekano took after that, trying to re-orient his mind in the midst of the sudden, traumatic fall into Maitimo and Calliope's pain. Normally when one was in contact with another's daemon, it was so the other could offer reassurance with a window into their truest feelings. But Calliope had pulled Findekano in as a form of attack, and Findekano had never imagined such a thing.

 

Nor such things as he understood from her attack.

 

"… Finno? Finno… please, don't go…"

 

His head was still swimming. Yet even then the desperation in Maitimo's voice touched his heart.

 

_Go to him, Penny,_ he asked. He hoped his daemon heard him, though in his confusion he wasn't sure if he could still feel her.

 

But she answered, _Are you all right, Findekano?_

 

_Go to him,_ he repeated. He liked to think he would be fine in a moment, though he couldn't have answered that one either.

 

Still, Penelope did as she was bid and hopped towards Maitimo – who had raised himself up somewhat to try and look for him, despite his weakness.

 

"… Findekano, please…"

 

"Russandol," Penelope said, with gentle chiding. Findekano felt his cousin's attention turn to her. "What was that about?"

 

There was a hitch in Maitimo's breath. "Ai, Penelope, forgive me… I did not… I…" he seemed to search for words, and struggle not to weep as he did so. "… Ah… please. I still can't believe you're really here. Please don't go…"

 

"Don't be silly, Maitimo, we're not going anywhere," Penelope said matter-of-factly. "And you, cousin, can stop being such a bully, thank you very much."

 

Calliope growled.

 

"We will not be parted."

 

Penelope came closer to the tiger now; Findekano admired her bravery. He began to breathe normally again, and uncurl.

 

"Findekano can't carry you both on his back all the way to our camp," the dove said plainly. "You and your elf are too weak to hold on to Lord Thorondor by yourself – " (Lord Thorondor who apparently watched all this with nothing to say), "So Findekano must hold one while the other is carried in his talons. I can't say it will be easy, dear friend, but the fact remains it must be done."

 

Again, Calliope growled. Findekano knew Penelope was not _un_ daunted by this, but she certainly made a good go at giving that impression, if he did say so himself.

 

"You and Maitimo must come back to our people, Calliope," she said. "You are our King, after all."

 

Calliope's eyes widened – Maitimo let out a broken sob, and Findekano was not sure of the wisdom of reminding him of this because it had come about due to the death of his father (who Maitimo must have loved, whatever others felt), but Calliope seemed to take this under consideration. Maitimo's head lowered back down into her fur.

 

Findekano's arm throbbed, but his mind had cleared of the terrible effect Calliope had shown him. Part of him felt betrayed anew that she could do that to him, after everything, but mostly his heart ached for her and Maitimo, and what they had clearly suffered.

 

Had they not… he wondered, the whole duration of his captivity…

 

He looked down at his arm. The bleeding had stopped already, as though the coldness he had felt had been so great it had burned the slashes shut. He realised Penelope had done this without any claws at all, and wondered how.

 

Then he told himself there was no point in wondering, for the Valar would not be there to answer his questions. They were on their own. Instead he looked back at Maitimo and Calliope, and then over at Thorondor, whose expression was inscrutable.

 

Plucking up his courage, he crawled back to his charges.

 

"Come, Maitimo," he said, discarding the bow, quiver and harp from his back. "My cloak is long – it will cover Calliope, and then she will at least have some protection from Lord Thorondor." Thorondor had a mind of his own, after all, so Findekano assumed he caused her the same discomfort with his touch that any other person might. "You can wear my overcoat."

 

He undid the fastenings and pulled the garment from his shoulders; gently when it came time to take it off his wounded arm. Maitimo stirred, moved his head a little toward him and caught his gaze. His eyes begged for help, and Findekano would have grasped his hand but Calliope lay on the one that remained, so with only slight hesitance he cupped his cousin's face. Maitimo winced but a little before accepting the touch, while Calliope's growl was but a quiet warning this time.

 

"We're almost on the other side of the storm," Findekano said.

 

It was a phrase that had become like a saying on the Helcaraxe, and even though Maitimo couldn't know that, Findekano hoped he'd know what he meant nonetheless.

 

Slowly, and with great force of will, Maitimo rose up into a sitting position. Penelope flapped up to Findekano's shoulder, hopped across and then landed on Maitimo's bare knee. He glanced at her in surprise; Findekano used the opportunity of the distraction to gingerly pull the dark cloak he'd used to disguise himself through the bowels of their enemy's lair away from his cousin's bruised body. Another pain was felt in his heart when he saw the marks the cloak had covered again.

 

Those will not last, he told himself. They will heal.

 

Meanwhile the touch of Maitimo's skin to Penelope's did not go unnoticed. Findekano felt the press of another upon him; not Maitimo's emotions this time because the daemon-touch was in the other direction, but the unmistakable presence looking over him. And he could not say that it was not uncomfortable, for it had been a long time since Maitimo or anyone else for that matter had touched Penelope.

 

But it was worth it, for then Maitimo whispered:

 

"Finno… I am really not dreaming. It _is_ you." And tears spilled down his hollow cheeks.

 

Findekano felt the same tears escape his own eyes. "Me and my flying rat," he said, trying to laugh.

 

Maitimo pulled his left hand away from Calliope's fur and put it on Penelope's wing. "O worthiest of birds," he called her. "I am so sorry, for what we did to you."

 

"All is forgiven," said Findekano, without thinking about it. Penelope turned her eyes on him, but did not object. "We are of the same blood, and have the same enemy. We'll fight him together, Maitimo."

 

Something new appeared in Maitimo's eyes at that declaration.

 

"Yes," he said. His voice was stronger now. "Yes, we will."

 

Taking that as assent, Findekano laid the cloak upon Calliope with Penelope's help – he did not think it wise to try and touch her again himself, and she did no more than growl softly at him. Then he helped Maitimo to put on the coat so he would not be so exposed.

 

The cloak around Calliope was more important, he thought. He did not know how she had learned to use being touched as a weapon, and did not want to, but he could guess, and the guess filled him with anger. When he had come upon his cousin and his daemon hanging from the cliff at Thangorodrim he had been appalled. Not only had the servants of Morgoth fixed both of them to the rocky face with a steel bar through wrist and paw, but they had done so where a corner of the stone jutted out, and put one of their captives on each side of that corner.

 

This had meant Maitimo and Calliope had not been able to touch or even look at each other for as long as they had been trapped there.

 

By sound they must have still been able to remain in contact, though with as little water as Maitimo seemed to have been given Findekano did not know how often he would have felt like speaking. And in their minds they must have still heard each other, for to separate an elf and daemon too far for that would be to rip the bond apart entirely, and that would kill them. But the ferocity with which they clung to each other once freed from the wicked bar – that spoke to Findekano loudly of what the prolonged lack of contact had done to them.

 

That bar… he had realised after a few attempts that it went right through the corner of the cliff; pierced through both elf and daemon with a single length of metal he could neither break out from the rock nor cut through. Instead…

 

He looked at Maitimo's hand again. That wound, the one _he'd_ caused, _that_ wound would not be healed.

 

_But he won't be the only one who has survived the loss of a limb,_ Penelope reminded him. _And losses worse than that. Our people have survived and are stronger, and so too will they be._

 

Maitimo was still whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

 

With a deep breath Findekano rested his head against the other's bloody hair. In the back of his head the howl of the blizzards had never gone away.

 

"It's all right," he said. "We're here now. Not there."

 

Some whim must have suggested he look out at the sky as he did then.

 

"Maitimo," he said, smiling. "Look up."

 

The sun had dipped far enough behind the distant mountains to unmask the light of a few stars, glittering in a rich purple sky. Maitimo looked up and saw them, and their light was reflected in his eyes.

 

"Elbereth…" he whispered.

 

"See?" Findekano told him. "Are we not the people of the stars? And over there – " he pointed toward the south-east, "That is Isil, that I was telling you about."

 

Maitimo delayed a moment, then looked at him, then at the direction he was pointing. The shock on his face was somehow rewarding – Findekano almost felt like laughing.

 

Maitimo said nothing after that. His lips moved, but no sound came out, and Findekano did not try to parse the movements of those lips.

 

He clasped his shoulder more firmly. "See? All will be well now, cousin."

 

Penelope used the opportunity of Calliope's own distraction with the moon to fly over to the top of her head, as she'd have done in her younger days. Calliope's ear flicked, but she did not try to bat her cousin away.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

They flew in to the camp at Mithrim just as the sky began to lighten, almost to the colour of a hyacinth. The other elves and daemons were amazed to see one of Manwe's eagles, but more than that they were relieved and joyous for the safe return of their prince, for whom search parties had been sent out many days previously. Findekano felt guilty for that, it was true, but not regretful.

 

When the elves realised who he had brought with him though, then it seemed few of them knew what to do. They stared at Maitimo, and at Calliope, and at their wounds, and Findekano thought the combination of pity and resentment for the hurts Maitimo had suffered and the hurts they'd suffered, had frozen them all in place.

 

Like ice.

 

So he was greeted with amazement, and joy, and ice. Thoronodor took off almost as soon as they had dismounted him, with only a soft, "Be well, Prince Findekano," as a goodbye. Findekano hadn't even had the time to say a farewell of his own before he was left alone among a people whose next actions he suddenly found he could not predict.

 

But then his father rode Ruth into the clearing, took one look at the situation and Findekano's eyes as he stood awkwardly in the midst of a staring crowd, holding his skeletal cousin in his arms, and Nolofinwe called out –

 

"Bring a litter for Calliope, she is wounded!"

 

And someone hastened to obey.

 

Findekano saw the dark circles beneath his father's eyes, which compelled to apologise; if not for the mission he had appointed to himself then at least for putting himself at risk for being the second son his father would lose after coming to Beleriand. And for a moment he thought his father was actually going to throw his arms around him, but Maitimo lay between them, asleep but vulnerable.

 

And the only word that came out of Findekano's mouth was –

 

"… Atto…"

 

Nolofinwe looked deep into his eyes for a long moment. "We'll talk about this later," he decided. "Your cousin needs help. I will have him brought to my tent for treatment, and send someone to inform Makalaure."

 

"Makalaure…" Findekano echoed. He had not completely escaped his mind, but every time he'd thought about Maitimo's brothers before his mind had switched focus within a few seconds to Maitimo himself, and keeping him reassured, and to a hundred other matters.

 

But his father seemed to misunderstand. "We gain nothing by hiding his presence," he said. "Whatever the past, our future in this land will depend partially upon keeping peace with the sons of Feanaro."

 

His focus switched then to Maitimo, and he frowned a little at the poor shape he found him in. His hand came up, as though to brush a lock of hair from Maitimo's face, but then he glanced at the hand – the one with the scar he never talked about – and he lowered it and turned his eyes away.

 

"Our own captains ought to be informed first. I will take care of it, you take Maitimo to our tent."

 

Ruth turned her head. "Should I not be the one to pull the litter, Nolofinwe?" she asked.

 

There was a long moment Findekano guessed they used to discuss mind-to-mind. Then Nolofinwe nodded.

 

"It would be best."

 

Two elves came forth carrying a litter of wood and seal pelt. They seemed astonished to see Calliope, even though they must already have been told who the litter was for; stopping a little ways before they reached her until Nolofinwe gestured for them to continue.

 

Calliope was semi-conscious. Thankfully Penelope was able to goad her to roll onto the litter, which was then attached to Ruth by straps. But before they made their way away from the growing crowd of gaping elves, the edges of which were beginning to writhe with newcomers jostling for a view, Nolofinwe strode out into the midst of them and addressed the crowd -

 

"The son of Feanaro has been brought into the camp," he called. "He is gravely wounded, he is my nephew and he is your King. And we will all respect this."

 

That left much unambiguous, yet much also ambiguous. But Findekano was at least reassured no one would attempt Maitimo harm while in their camp, or at least no one who would not defy his father, which was few enough.

 

_I can think of two though_ … Penelope reminded him. Findekano sighed.

 

He had little time to think about those two. His father came back to his side and without pause began to bombard him with questions about his journey – about Thangorodrim and what he had seen there, the numbers of the enemy, the layout of his lair, the armaments of his troops and all the other questions Findekano had expected to be at the forefront of his mind not so long ago.

 

He answered as best he could. However, as they neared the entrance to his father's tent he found himself suddenly exhausted. The information took longer to recall than it should have. He was distracted by every slight bump Calliope was drawn over, and the uncertain faces that they passed.

 

Nolofinwe seemed to see this, and broke off his interrogation at the threshold. "Take some rest if you can now," he said. "As before, we will talk later."

 

Findekano nodded, now too tired to dread that talk. They dislodged Calliope onto an ice bearskin rug, and Maitimo onto a cot, then Nolofinwe clapped his shoulder and turned to depart.

 

It seemed almost Findekano's imagination that his father said, "You have done well," before he left.

 

Then he slept, sitting on another rug and leaning against the cot Maitimo had been placed on. Penelope roosted on its frame.

 

Eyes open, he was aware of the movements of healers come to attend to Maitimo's hurts; Maitimo who was too tired himself to be much aware of anything, or so Findekano hoped because his cousin deserved a rest.

 

But he and Penelope were half in a dream of their own, and watching Calliope run through a dark forest. They tried to fly in after her, but her stripes blended in with the trees and the grasses, and her fur with the fire that was all around them, both bright like that of Pandora and dark like those of Thangorodrim.

 

They did not see the fire that was the Sun though. The fires they saw were some of them beautiful, some terrible, but both consuming all that lay around them. They persevered. They followed each flash of movement in the orange and the black, but they never found a trace of that for which they sought.

 

Then a bird flew into their father's tent, landing on a storage box in front of them, and their eyes fluttered and focused on the waking world again.

 

"I don't believe it," said the bird, with a huff. "She's back all right, and brought our cousin with her as they said!"

 

"Paris…" Findekano mumbled.

 

His sister's daemon was a dove like many in their family possessed, but he was larger than Penelope; a brilliant white all over except for jet black accents on the edges of his wings. His sister followed soon after, in slightly duller white wearied by the road behind them and accented by her jet black hair.

 

She looked at him like a parent who had caught a mischievous child and clenched her fists.

 

"Oh, you idiot!" she snarled, and ran to him.

 

Hastily he held up his hands. "Shh! Maitimo is – "

 

Her desperate embrace cut him off. He could not help but smile and return it – and accept the knuckles brought down hard against his back.

 

"You absolute fool!" she added. Paris came over to the frame above Maitimo's head and pecked his sister, and preened her.

 

A moment later Turukano followed her in, with Hecuba on his shoulder, searching frantically. His eyes found Findekano's and he looked relieved, but within a moment he had seen Maitimo too, and then his face froze.

 

"So it's true," were the first words his younger brother said to him.

 

Findekano brought one finger up to his lips.

 

"Shh. He has suffered much. Let's go outside."

 

Turukano clicked his tongue. " _He_ has suffered much?"

 

"Turno, look at him," Findekano said softly.

 

Turukano did so, with the clear intention of seeing and then dismissing to prove a point, but in looking he could not help but see, and his eyes widened. Findekano drew back a corner of the blanket that covered their cousin so his brother could see more, and though the more recent lash-marks had been bandaged by the healers, the older scars were clear. He put the cover back.

 

"Fine," said Turukano. "We will go outside, and then you will answer to us for your foolishness."

 

Findekano was loath to leave Maitimo and Calliope with no watcher, but he knew this was important. Outside the sun was still low in the morning sky, the air was chill, and around his father's tent it was less busy than it should have been. He soon saw why – there were guards close by, monitoring those who were trying to pass through. He saw one directing another elf to go around that path instead of walking it.

 

Turukano quickly pulled him around the side of the tent and out of the view of the guards. Irisse came after, and their daemons.

 

"Brother," Turukano began, "you are without a doubt the most ridiculous buffoon who ever lived. What were you _thinking,_ stealing off to Thangorodrim!?"

 

The mood was not really right for Findekano to say, _'I was thinking I'd rescue our cousin from his torment at the hands of Morgoth'_ in a blasé fashion, though he thought of it.

 

But he had the feeling Turukano had a lot to get off his chest, so he gave him opportunity to do so, and said nothing.

 

"Do you have any idea… after Arakano… the kind of…" Turukano grit his teeth and growled. "I am so incensed with you right now I cannot even speak properly. What were you thinking!? The fact that you've succeeded is beside the point, by the way, since I frankly don't care either way – "

 

"Come now, Turukano." Findekano _did_ have to protest there. "I saw your eyes when you saw Maitimo just now. You still care."

 

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Turukano said, and laughed bitterly. "What, because my heart didn't fill with joy at the sight of his suffering? They made it clear their ties to us were cut."

 

Out of the corner of his eye Findekano saw Irisse flinch. He protested:

 

"Makalaure said – "

 

"I don't care what Makalaure said!" Turukano spat. "I told Atar I will not consider him my king, and that goes for Maitimo too, even if he didn't burn those ships himself. He never said he tried to stop them, or even argued our case."

 

"That doesn’t matter now. The real enemy is out there – "

 

"Is he? You think they have forgotten that Oath of theirs, Findekano? That he won't start spending our lives in pursuit of those gems as easily as they consigned us to the ice!?"

 

Turukano's voice broke a little at the end of that sentence, and Findekano would that he could have said something to ease his brother's pain but knew nothing that came from him could do it. Irisse moved closer to put her hand over Turukano's shoulder, but he shrugged her comfort off. However, she persisted, and the second time he only shut his eyes and turned his head away, allowing her arm to remain around him.

 

Now seeing him distraught, Irisse took over.

 

"That can all be discussed at length in time," she said. "Right now you must answer to us for your present actions, brother dear. Why by all the Valar did you think it would be a good idea to run off on your own into whatever cesspit of evil Morgoth has called his home to rescue someone who left us to die!"

 

Findekano rubbed his brow. This one was going to be tricky.

 

"Just because it was done to us, doesn't mean we should inflict the same onto others – "

 

"For goodness' sake, Findekano – that is what Mother used to tell us when we were pulling each other's hair in the nursery! The two situations are entirely different; it's no fault of ours that Maitimo was stupid enough to walk into an enemy trap – "

 

"Did you see him?" Findekano asked her. "Just now? You think he should have been allowed to stay there?"

 

"I think you hadn't seen anything of the sort before you set out."

 

She had him there. With faint hope, he tried –

 

"If it had been Tyelkormo?"

 

But only a moment's pause was he rewarded with.

 

"I would have hoped he did not suffer much," Irisse said quietly.

 

Then Paris said, "Especially if even his own brothers had not gone to his rescue. Their bonds are tight, but they did not even truly believe he was alive. Why were you so sure?"

 

_This is dangerous territory,_ Penelope warned him.

 

_I know_ , thought Findekano. _But what can we do but face it?_

 

"We had to be sure," he said, vaguely. His hand waved in a weak movement. "After all that we've lost already – "

 

Suddenly, on Turukano's shoulder, Hecuba twitched. She leant forward and observed her sister, white crown flashing as a ray of sunlight crept over the row of tents beside them and shone upon her. She was the only one of Ruth's children who had not taken the form of a dove, though she was a bird not as dissimilar as others in their family – about two thirds the size and a little more slender than her siblings were or had been. She'd been much smaller than her mate.

 

Her head and chest were white, her wings and tail were charcoal, and she had distinctive orange-red plumage at the base of her tail and beneath her wings. Yavanna had declared her of the family of weaver-birds, who wove their homes with mud and grass down in the south. The eyes that peered into Penelope's amber were black.

 

"You're lying," she said.

 

Findekano winced. Had it been that obvious? Given it was Hecuba who had guessed it he supposed it had been Penelope who had given the game away, but he and Penelope were as close to being one person as two creatures could be, so he couldn't really blame her alone.

 

And more than that he hadn't _wanted_ to breathe falsehoods to his brother and sister. But for them, especially Turukano, to find out the truth with the way things were in camp at the moment…

 

Well, there were other relationships in this family that were teetering on the brink.

 

But of course, the one wince had more or less been an admission of its own.

 

"There's something you're hiding from us, Findekano," Turukano said.

 

Findekano sighed. Seeing the look in his brother's eyes he knew he had two choices – admit the truth or refuse to answer, for he would not be able to convince him now that he was wrong. For one thing – he wasn't. Irisse was now regarding him with folded arms and no less scrutiny.

 

And Hecuba seemed to have guessed their little secret, even if her elf hadn't.

 

"What did Nolofinwe have to say about your excursion?" she asked.

 

Penelope cocked her head and answered instead of Fidnekano. "He wasn't the one to tell you we'd returned?"

 

"He did," said Hecuba, "but we didn't stay with him long after that."

 

Irisse frowned and looked from brother to brother, then asked, "Findekano, what is going on?"

 

Again, all Findekano could do was sigh.

 

_It has to be the truth_ , Penelope told him. _We can't lie to our own siblings_.

 

Even though Findekano knew she was right, he still grimaced. Then he took a deep breath.

 

"… it was never about Maitimo, brother."

 

For a moment, Turukano stared at him expecting elaboration. But then – and he must have conferred privately with Hecuba; Findekano saw her glance at him – his eyes widened, and he suddenly realised what Findekano meant.

 

"That bastard…" he breathed.

 

"Don't – "

 

"What is it?" asked Irisse.

 

Turukano glared. "Don't tell me 'don't', brother – you admit it yourself; you didn't set out to rescue Maitimo, you went specifically to gather information on the enemy _because_ we couldn't trust… _Father sent you_ out to Thangorodrim!" he hissed angrily.

 

"He did not send me," Findekano said quickly, and he hoped leaving no room for argument. "I only heard him discussing the matter with Finderato. That _someone_ should be sent to scout our enemy for ourselves because the sons of Feanaro could not be trusted. Finderato wouldn't hear of anyone but himself volunteering, but Atto vetoed it since he wants our cousin to lead any talks there might be with Elwe – if it is true he is alive after all, as we have heard." He exhaled. "But I think Finderato would rather Angarato take on that task. Anyway, Atto proposed a few other candidates, but… I thought we should make clear we would not ask the people to do anything we ourselves were not prepared to undertake."

 

Silence.

 

"We honestly never expected to find Maitimo and Calliope," Penelope added sadly. "Alive or otherwise."

 

" - but obviously, we couldn't leave them there once we _had_ found them," Findekano finished.

 

Having said his piece he looked back at his brother's expression, hoping to see a change that might indicate their words had reached him, even if only a little.

 

He hoped in vain; Turukano's expression was thunderous.

 

"Our father sent you, or as good as sent you, on this mission," he insisted. Then he inhaled deeply, as though about to continue, but then just shook his head like he'd thought better of saying what he was about to say.

 

And Findekano could see no reason for it, but somehow he felt like he might have wished to hear what Turukano had been about to say.

 

And much later, he would guess what lines those words might have run along. But that was not this day.

 

Instead Turukano just said again, "That bastard," and, "I see he cares as little about all of us equally at least."

 

Findekano's fists clenched "Don't talk about our father like that – "

 

"I will talk about him however I want!" snapped Turukano. "We came here to prosper – become greater even than we had been in Aman – I came here, to give that future to my family, but our father… he wants to destroy Morgoth, and will sacrifice as many of us as our damned cousins would to get their father's jewels back!"

 

Findekano didn't have the heart to say _You could have turned back, if you'd wanted to. He didn't force either of you to come._

 

But Penelope looked at her sister and reminded her, "We all made our own choices freely."

 

"Those choices were ill-informed," said Turukano. "I would not have my daughter suffer for them."

 

"No, nor would I," said Irisse. "Nor the two of you either, if it could be helped." She snorted. "Or myself, for that matter. And it may be that there will be no room to prosper out here while Melkor and his creatures run amok, but I for one did not come here for love of warfare. Tell us truly, Findekano, when you heard Atto and Finderato talking, did they want to know the enemy's movements and numbers so we might be better protected, or because Atto is planning to attack."

 

Truthfully, Findekano answered, "Both options were discussed."

 

"And the conclusion they came to?" asked Paris.

 

"They did not come to a conclusion," Findekano told them.

 

"No," said Hecuba, wryly. "It would have been un _wise_ to do so before gaining the information they required."

 

Well, Findekano couldn't argue there. In a last ditch attempt to salvage something of this talk he asked –

 

"Is Itarille well now?"

 

Turukano did not answer, but Irisse laughed – without humour. "I think she might be better when she hears her uncle wasn't stolen away and eaten by Melkor's monsters."

 

An awkward silence followed. Findekano honestly didn't know what to say; he knew Turukano had been heartbroken by Elenwe's death and heartbroken a second time by Arakano's, as had the rest of them. Father had lead them here and so from one perspective the responsibility for that fell on him, but how Turukano could spit such poison at him after all their father had done to get them through their perils…

 

As for Irisse, she had ever chafed against their father's sternness and restrictions. Findekano couldn't even say he knew who had the right of that quarrel, but now that Turukano was at odds with their father as well it was pushing the two of them closer together.

 

And Penelope felt it too. Her siblings, and Hecuba in particular, neither talked nor flocked with her as they used to. Paris at least still seemed to have no ill feeling towards her, but Hecuba…

 

Hecuba had not forgotten who'd flown them straight ahead into Aqualonde.

 

It was probably ironic that when Findekano recalled it now he could only think – _what else were we to do? We heard Calliope's battle-cry through the smoke._

 

"Please," he said, after a long time. "You are my brother-and-sister, and my sister-and-brother. Can we not rejoice a little that my mission was a success? Good things will come of this, I'm sure of it."

 

He held his hands out towards them, and Turukano ignored him. Irisse shook her head but sighed and clasped her hand to his and his heart was a little eased for it.

 

"I don't know what we'll do about you, brother-and-sister," she said.

 

Then Turukano said.

 

"I'm going to take some time to think about this," and made as if to turn away.

 

Yet Findekano could not stand to let him leave like that and reached further towards him.

 

"Brother," he said. It had been a difficult few days (years) and desperation was beginning to creep into his voice. "Please."

 

Turukano hesitated. Perhaps he conferred with Hecuba.

 

Then at last he turned around and clasped Findekano's other hand.

 

"I'm glad you made it back, Finno," he said.

 

He'd touched the part Calliope had slashed earlier and Findekano winced – Turukano frowned and cocked his head in question.

 

"Just a scratch," Findekano assured him, smiling. Turukano nodded.

 

He turned and left forthwith. Irisse patted Findekano on the shoulder and went after him.

 

Neither of them had denied him their reassurances as siblings, and yet as they turned their backs Findekano couldn't help but feel their hearts were further away from his now, and that hurt him. They had not sought to touch Penelope, nor had Hecuba or Paris come forth to receive her touch.

 

Ai, but it was all a mess.

 

_Hecuba and Mother are too much alike_ , Penelope thought towards him, eventually. _It's no wonder their elves clash._

 

_What do you think they'll do?_ Findekano asked her. _Break ties with father? They cannot possibly think to go back across the Helcaraxe._

 

_No, they're here now and here they'll have to stay. But if they won't be ruled by Maitimo then I don't know where else they'd go. Find refuge in Sindar lands?_

 

_Maybe they just need some time apart from Atto. Time to heal, and forgive._

 

_Maybe_ , thought Penelope, but Findekano knew she was unconvinced. It was the same for him.

 

_… at least Maitimo is here now._

 

How many times had he wished for that back on the ice, and since? Not for his skill at rallying others, since he probably wouldn't have been too inspiring with his name being cursed by the hour on the Helcaraxe, but just to have his friend there with him, the person he had always talked to about everything… before their fathers…

 

Well, anyway, he hoped he could have that again. He hoped that after everything, after the betrayal – even if Maitimo's had not been as pronounced as the rest of his family's – after the maiming, after all their losses…

 

… he hoped Maitimo at least still _liked_ him.

 

That he didn't _hate_ him.

 

"Let's go back inside," Penelope suggested. "We should be there when Maitimo wakes, shouldn't we?"

 

"You're right," said Findekano.

 

He still watched after his retreating siblings' back until they had rounded the corner and left his sight.

 

When they were gone he sighed deeply and turned away, trudging back around the side of the tent and towards the entrance, then lifted up the flap and ducked inside.

 

At once he saw both elf and daemon were awake already – Calliope rested half on the carpet and half on the cot, on Maitimo, and Maitimo stroked her head absently but looked up when he registered the brief light from outside.

 

"Cousin," said Findekano softly. "You're awake."

 

Penelope flew boldly to Calliope's shoulder; boldly, and not a little dejected from her own sister's rejection of her earlier, and in recent times in general. Maitimo squinted.

 

"What is that light outside?" he croaked.

 

Findekano glanced behind him, wondering what light Maitimo meant for a moment before he realised.

 

"Oh, Anar. Well, she is not over the horizon quite yet, but you will see her soon, I promise. More importantly, how are you feeling?"

 

"… like this is all a dream," said Maitimo. He reached out toward Penelope and, seeing that she did not shy away, brushed her feathers with his fingertips. Findekano shivered, though it was not an unpleasant feeling. "It is not a dream," Maitimo decided, smiling faintly. "I am sorry."

 

"Don't be," said Findekano, shrugging.

 

Maitimo chuckled briefly. "Don't be?" he repeated. "I think I should. I heard you and your siblings out there."

 

Findekano's heart sank. "How much did you hear?" he asked.

 

"Not individual words themselves, so much," said Maitimo. His voice was still weak, but it was steadier now. "Enough to know that Turukano is very angry. I would that I had not come between the two of you, or Irisse."

 

"Cousin – "

 

"I would that much had not come to pass, now it has come to this."

 

With a deep breath, Findekano walked to the side of the cot and knelt beside it. "Cousin. It was nothing – you of all people know how brothers are."

 

Maitimo frowned, and then repeated, "Brothers… Finno, you spoke of Makalaure earlier, if my ears did not deceive me, but – "

 

"They're fine," Findekano said quickly. "All fine; the whole motley crew of them." His smile became more rueful, and Maitimo shared it, after exhaling with relief.

 

"Good," he said. "… that is good."

 

Findekano took his hand. "They would have come themselves, I am sure," he said. "And certainly Makalaure would have made a better go of that singing lark – " Maitimo chuckled again, " – but though Morgoth tried to use you as a hostage, they believed he was deceiving them, and that you were dead already."

 

Though his eyes closed in pain – and not, Findekano guessed, of the body – Maitimo nodded again.

 

"Yes," he said. "That was wise of them."

 

"My father has sent a messenger already, no doubt," Findekano added. "So we shall be hearing from them soon."

 

Maitimo's eyes opened, and he smiled.

 

"That will be good…" he said. With whatever fears he might have had for his brothers assuaged, whatever lies the enemy might have told him off his mind, he seemed to be ready to fall asleep again.

 

But he had a little wakefulness left in him. Enough for –

 

"And you, Finno? Turukano certainly sounded in good health," he smiled wider, "and Irisse. But I did not hear Arakano out there."

 

There was a long silence. Findekano felt like there was a shadow in his chest, squeezing his heart.

 

"Findekano?" Calliope asked. "Where is Dido?"

 

_… that cannot be lain at your feet, or your father's. We were not expecting to be greeted by those yrch when we arrived. They are the real enemy._

 

That was what Findekano wanted to say, but even now the grief was still too raw, and he shut his eyes and held tighter on to Maitimo's hand.

 

After a while, Calliope must have understood from Penelope what the silence heralded, and her head lowered, but Maitimo just stared out into middle distance, smile fading.

 

"I see," he said. "He did not come out to vent his wroth with Turukano and Irisse." He paused. "Perhaps he has also forgiven me."

 

Then he began to cry.

 

                                                                                                                 

*~*~*

 

 

Daemons introduced in this chapter include those of:

 

Fingon:                Penelope, a rock dove

Turgon:               Hecuba, a white-headed buffalo weaver

Aredhel:              Paris, a pied imperial pigeon

 

And from previous parts...

 

Maedhros:          Calliope, a Bengal tiger

Fingolfin:            Ruth, and Andalusian horse (dark brown in colour)

 

*~*~*

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who's wondering why I gave Fingon a pigeon for his daemon should know that pigeons are awesome. That's all.


End file.
